


second thoughts (in the third degree)

by frogfarm



Series: Triangulation [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Buffy Wishverse, F/F, F/M, Free Agency, Gen, Redemption, Regret, Soap Opera, Souled Vampire(s), Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Willow should have known having a soul wouldn't be easy. Seasons 2 through 6, remixed Wishverse-style.Post-"Doppelgangerland" w/some changes; post-"You Say Smile, I Think".





	second thoughts (in the third degree)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbianbutch04](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lesbianbutch04).
  * Inspired by [A Parliament of Monsters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807) by [Barb Cummings (Rahirah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings). 



> F/M and non-con each limited to one brief aborted appearance.

> _"We send her back to her world, and she stands a chance. It's the way it should be, anyway."_

  


* * *

  
Tara knows perfectly well that Willow has no idea why she allowed herself to be talked into this. Oz still thinks they're crazy for even wanting to try, which is why he and Giles are on the far side of the room, crossbows at the ready. The Watcher's best guess had been boredom, whereas Oz had chosen curiosity as the prime mover. But Tara has more than a passing familiarity with desperation; the darkness of locked closets and the smell of something sour. And her new friend -- the word feels somehow appropriate despite the lack of soul -- reeks to high heaven.

Luckily for everyone else involved, her own mind had been made up from the moment she first approached the vampire one dark and stormy night just over three weeks ago. Even so, it had taken that long to overcome the group's objections. Giles had the most to say, given his experience, and had that say at great length as he probed her with brutal precision on everything from practical ritual to ethical theory. Losing Larry and the other students had been a blow from which they thought the Watcher might never recover, but the destruction of Anyanka's amulet, along with the subsequent death of the Master and the majority of his trusted servants, had breathed new life into what was left of the town of Sunnydale. Giles had thrown himself into the role of leader with renewed fervor, and it had taken all of Tara's considerable persuasion to convince him, let alone the actual subject of their discussion.

The end result is that he's now standing in the same room with the angelic young demon who drained Cordelia Chase dry right before his eyes. It speaks not just volumes, but veritable libraries as to his own level of desperation. Despite their seeming turn of good fortune, the new Slayer in town isn't much friendlier than the last, with Faith maintaining a cool distance despite her general cooperation. More than anything, that had been the deciding factor: White hats are in demand. With their own side so pitifully small in comparison, they need every soldier they can get.

So Tara stands in the center of the library -- just out of Willow's reach even if the vampire's arms were free, which of course they aren't. The two women chant in unison with rising intensity as lightning flares between them, and Giles looks like he's still thinking of more ways this can go terribly wrong when the air splits open with a clap of thunder. Tara's never felt anything even close to this and she never wants it to end; Oz stands unmoving, a relaxed grip on his backup stake as streams of shimmering purple flow from Tara's blank and unseeing eyes to the vampire now straining at her bonds, her features frozen in a silent scream.

Then it's over.

Willow sags in her restraints, eyes staring at nothing, breath rasping from her throat. Tara's still recovering herself but is just thinking she's been meaning to ask about that, given the whole oxygen not being a thing-thing.

Then the real screaming starts.

Giles stumbles back, nearly dropping the crossbow. Oz raises his with grim determination, eyes fixed on the spitting, screeching tornado now thrashing at the end of its chains.

"Trank her," Tara snaps. Nothing happens, and she looks over her shoulder. "Giles!"

The Watcher raises his rifle and fires.

Willow slumps to the floor, unmoving and silent.  


* * *

  
Things aren't going much better by the time Faith arrives unexpectedly, and it doesn't help matters when the Slayer's eyes bug out and her natural response is to immediately go for a stake. Oz's hand is cramped from holding his crossbow, Giles and Tara all too slow and the only thing that saves Willow from being dusted in her sleep is the Sanctuary spell they put in place as a backup. The explosive impact only staggers everyone else but sends the Slayer flying before bouncing, skidding and sliding to a stop.

"The _fuck_?"

The murderous look as Faith picks herself up off of the floor should put some fear in Tara, but she's too fascinated by the implications. She and Giles had cast the protection during her first week in town, in the hope of preventing further tragedies on school grounds. Apparently Tara's not the only one blindsided by this turn of events. 

Faith cocks an eyebrow and cracks her knuckles. "Thought you said that was only demon violence."

"Indeed." Giles regards them with tired eyes that suddenly look twice as old. "Though the Council has never shared this information with any Slayer that I am aware of, the most plausible theory for the origin of the Slayer's power is an infusion of demonic energy. Its...essence."

"Color me surprised." Faith lifts her chin at the far wall. "So why the no-slay zone?"

"She has a soul." Tara stands resolute, uncowed by the other girl's anger. "Now it's up to her."

Faith contemplates this for about three seconds all told, a multitude of emotions flickering across her features before settling on the original.

"Any other little secrets you feel like sharing?"

"I know you're upset," Tara begins.

"Try pissed." Faith looks down at the stake in her hand and back at them, shaking her head in disbelief. "You even think to tell me? At all?"

"I didn't want to try to convince you." Tara's pretty sure this won't be so easily smoothed over. Still, it never hurts to try. "We both know you'll do what you want --"

"Because I'm not part of your little gang?" Something unpleasant flashes in Faith's eyes. "I'm still the Slayer. So maybe don't give me any more of that crap about respecting the authority of the office, and quit trying to tell me what to do. How's that for a good time?"

"I am not your Watcher, nor am I trying to be." Giles stands a little straighter, clinging stubbornly to his remaining shreds of dignity. "But we are stronger together. And every ally --" He nods at the unconscious vampire. "Adds to our strength."

"Yeah. Have fun with that." Faith's dismissal makes it eminently clear what she thinks of this particular ally. Tara stands her ground, folding her arms and facing Faith head on.

"So what does the Slayer think we should do?"

"Now that the Master's gone?" Faith ignores her in favor of addressing Giles. "I'm thinking it's time to press these bastards hard."

Giles nods. "Power does abhor a vacuum."

"Right." Faith narrows her eyes, like she can't tell if he's saying she sucks. "Word on the street is Amy's still around --"

"Say no more." Oz's grim interjection serves as unneeded reminder to them all. The ex-cheerleader may be a lowball on the enemy totem pole, but she's already done enough damage that none of them have any desire to see how much higher she can climb.

Tara nods in agreement. Some things take priority over petty squabbles.

"Need backup?"

"Doubt it, but -- I'll keep you posted." Faith's already heading for the door. "You know -- when I feel like it."

Giles sighs as the door shuts, removing his glasses for the ritual polishing.

"You know, I can't help but think we might well have been better off with Buffy. She had such potential --"

"You go to war with the Slayer you have," Tara points out. 

"Yes, well -- much more of this and we will literally be at war, with her." Giles looks back at the indistinct heap in the corner, unnervingly still. "I only hope this girl is worth it."

"Like I said." Tara shrugs. "That's up to her."  


* * *

  
When she first comes to, Willow looks adorably confused. Then all that memory comes flooding back and she doubles over and vomits once, twice, spewing crimson all over the tiles. Oz and Giles are looking green around the gills as Willow gags and spits and sobs, involuntarily going into game face and straining at her chains to reach the blood on the floor before crumpling into a ball of weeping mess. Tara can feel her treacherous heart yearning to escape its own restraints, wanting only to hold the other girl and wipe away her tears.

She puts a water jug within reach, and leaves before her scant remaining willpower fails.

The guys can take it from here.  


* * *

  
Despite rational thought and irrational hope, Tara finds herself more than a little shaken. Like the rest of them, she'd only had the vaguest notion of what to expect from a souled vampire. Willow was a fledgling by anyone's standards, with less than two years of bloodshed to her name, yet during that brief period the young woman had achieved a depth of cruelty that rivaled legends such as Angelus. There had been conversations aplenty over tea and blood, with much mockery and disdain on Willow's part whenever "Puppy" became relevant to the discussion. Oz and Giles had filled in as many blanks as possible, until Tara found herself wishing she could tell them to stop.

It's why she finds Faith easier to talk to than the guys. Giles, and Oz even more so, have all sorts of Willow-history with accompanying baggage. By comparison, the two of them are Sunnydale newbies.

"I don't get it." Faith's incredulous tone is matched by the slight strain in her voice, balanced as she is on one hand atop the stone wall surrounding Restfield Cemetery. "Why the hell would anyone come here if you weren't a Slayer?"

"Rock-bottom tuition." Tara tries not to stare at the revealed expanse of striated muscle, the gift of a tank top yielding to gravity. "And a complete lack of scholarships."

"High school dropout, so --" The seeming self-deprecation comes across as more dismissive. "Not really qualified."

"Me neither. Not yet," Tara qualifies. "My dad always said someone in the family should be the first to go to college." 

"My old man went to the school of want, take, go to prison, get shanked." Faith somehow shrugs as she switches hands. "So when'd your dad die?"

Tara manages not to flinch. The Slayer hardly ever mentions her own family, and this atypical openness deserves an equal exchange.

"The year before I left. My mother m--" She has to clear her throat to swallow the old stutter before it can take hold. "Murdered him."

"Damn." The Slayer hops down from the wall, dusting her hands. "What's the story there?"

"He didn't know what she was when he married her -- I only figured some of this out after he was gone." Tara falls into step beside Faith as they head toward the gates. "He was a traveling minister, and one day he came by her family's farm. I guess she saw her ticket out of there. So she charmed him into taking her with him."

Faith purses her lips. "How long that last?"

"Oh, she didn't have to do much. He loved her anyway." Tara does her best not to sound bitter. "He loved her until the day he died."

They arrive at the Crawford Street mansion sooner than she'd like, where Giles had insisted the vampire be moved back to in order to reclaim his library safe space. The imposing sight of the dilapidated old building serves as a vivid reminder of how Tara's the one who suggested this insane proposal in the first place, now that Willow looks to be suffering the ultimate in buyer's remorse. At the very least, it doesn't bode well for scaling to mass production.

Faith waits outside, and Tara walks into the foyer with fresh cow's blood and a spare stake. She sets them on the floor within reach of the motionless body lying in the shadows.

"You made a choice," Tara says.

She doesn't look back.  


* * *

  
When they walk in the next evening Giles is seated at the fireplace, Oz kneeling by Willow's side speaking in low and quiet tones. Finally he looks up at Giles, who stands with a weary look of resignation.

"For the record, there is no possible way I could oppose this more strenuously."

Faith rolls her eyes. "Fine. Far as the Council knows, your ass is officially covered."

Willow watches with open trepidation, Oz holding her hand, as the Slayer accepts the key from Giles. Faith's gaze is pensive as she stands over them.

"Nobody ever said doing the right thing was easy. My Watcher, she said the exact opposite. Told me truth has to be its own reward. 'Cause everyone else?" Faith allows herself a little smile. "Is gonna give you nothing but shit for it."

"She was right." Willow sounds haggard but sane. "Did you know Oz here was almost my first boyfriend? Actually, more like my first almost-boyfriend --"

"Plenty of time for the backstory," Oz interjects. He holds up their joined hands, looking Willow in the eye.

"I miss Xander." The vampire's voice is barely audible. 

Oz doesn't reply, his gaze full of empathy.

"And --" Willow falters. "And it's my fault he's gone."

"I know." Oz looks over at Giles and back at Willow. "Are you doing this?"

Willow swallows, and looks over at Tara.

"Thanks for the cow."

Tara smiles. "Token gesture, I know."

"Still. It was a nice thought."

Willow bows her head, then without another word, looks up and nods. Faith unlocks the chains and steps back like the stake is burning a hole in her pocket, her skin crawling at the proximity of undead flesh. But when Willow stands it's on shaky legs that threaten to buckle, and Oz is there with an arm around her before they can warn him away.

"You catch me if I fall." The vampire lifts her chin, lower lip wobbling before her face sets in grim resolve. "But I need to stand on my own."  


* * *

  
Giles barely had time to get to know the previous Slayer before she met her death at the hands of the Master. Still, the memory of Buffy is oddly and particularly painful: The raw power barely contained in her lithe form, exceeded only by deadly precision and single-minded focus.

They're having drinks at his place the following night -- he's long since abandoned any hope of adhering to the minor consumption laws -- when Faith says: "Sounds like this chick didn't have any friends."

Tara looks and sounds unsure. "Giles said the Slayer isn't supposed to have friends."

Faith snorts. "Screw that."

"What she said." Oz finishes mixing and hands Willow her would-be kosher Bloody Mary. "I probably would have been killed off by now if I didn't have friends."

Predictably, Willow tries to ease her guilt with a joke. "Even the ones who tried to kill you?"

"You can't make up for it."

Willow looks stricken at this level of laconic aplomb.

"I mean --" Oz pauses. "You shouldn't think of it like that."

"We can never escape our past." Giles holds his glass to the light, swirling its contents, watching droplets cascade and collide. "But it is far from the only thing which defines us."  


* * *

  
It's another few days before Willow feels up to joining them on patrol. Her old leather is gone, replaced by nondescript dark denim jeans and jacket similar to Faith's, but as a hunter she's scary and efficient as ever. The Belfnar is a minotaur on steroids, fast-moving for its size, the product of an ill-advised experiment in the school basement by the chess club. Tara's concern grows ever stronger as they track their quarry halfway across town before finally catching up, becoming alarm when they spot the petite redhead being brutally pummeled by the massive creature, and she's about to intervene when Willow grabs a pair of stakes from Faith and plants them deep in the demon's eyes before seizing, flipping and slamming it onto a convenient iron fence, dually impaled. The bellow nearly splits their eardrums but the fenceposts hold the thing firmly in place, and Willow takes hold of the enormous horns and gives a mighty twist that rips the Belfnar's head not-so-clean from its body with a horrid, crackling squelch.

Willow looks back at the stunned Scoobies, eyes wide, panting as her mouth hangs open 

(and again, fleetingly, Tara wonders: Oxygen?)

before turning to a shy, hesitant smile.

"Damn." Faith looks more than a little impressed. "Head on the first date."

That's when Tara goes from worried to jealous.  


* * *

  
For all their kind words, Giles and even Oz are clearly not comfortable being alone with her. Faith is still adjusting to the whole Watcher deal, trying to maintain her independence. As a result, Tara's the only one willing to spend time with the vampire when they're not on patrol or having official meetings. She'd wrestled with the notion of inviting herself over, and when she finally dared give it voice, the look of naked gratitude from Willow was almost painful in its poignancy.

She brings books, and herbs. Then non-magickal books, when she sees something Willow might like, and flowers to brighten up the gloomy gothic setting. Willow had been ready to throw out everything in the house that reminded her of killing until she realized that would be everything, including the house.

The first time Tara spends the night is out of sheer practicality, or so she thinks. The streets of Sunnydale are better than they were the year before, but still unsafe for a lone mortal after sunset. Willow offers to walk her home, and Tara surprises herself by semi-passively guilting the vampire into letting her stay. She lays out couch cushions on the floor and sleeps by the fireplace, feeling a little less lonely knowing Willow is in the next room.

The one night becomes regular. Willow buys Tara her own toothbrush, makes sure to have the orange pekoe tea she knows Tara likes. 

The first time Tara notices the vampire sneaking a peek at her, it comes as a shock only because she can't believe it took her this long to notice. She'd thought she was over the shame of her mother's repressive legacy but her immediate reaction is to cross her arms over her breasts and hunch down into herself, go back to the baggy and shapeless sweaters of adolescence. Except she just stands there, staring back, until Willow looks away.

Tara smiles.

"You're the only vampire I've ever seen blush."  


* * *

  
Willow wants Tara very badly. This is complicated, mostly because this desire involves two kinds of eating which are diametrically opposed to one another. The confusion and horror of her first sexy dream involving the witch is enough to wake her up screaming until she realizes she hasn't made a sound other than a tiny high keening in her throat, fingernails leaving crimson moons in her palms.

Since then she's gotten more of a handle on things, but vampire psychology is enough of a polar bear without having no one else to confide in. The notion of tainting the purity of Tara's innocence, as she sees it, eventually drives her from the witch's side and into a hot shower in a futile attempt to scrub away the self-loathing. Honestly it should be a cold shower, but she finds it harder these days to achieve the old levels of masochism. Without a soul she'd slept with men and women indiscriminately, indulged in all manner of perversion; one of her favorite ways to get off was to have Xander fuck her ass while she brought her victim to orgasm and drank from them at the same time, literally draining them dry (double points for virgins). And when Puppy's other forms of amusement paled, he was always good for a ride: Just shove a stake up _his_ ass, to force an erection that wouldn't quit. And it's precisely this sort of thing that makes her despair of ever having any kind of real relationship, with anyone...

She comes to on the verge of coming, one rock-hard nipple in a cruel grip between thumb and finger, two more forcing their way up inside her. The thought of a cold shower sounds good for a second and then she turns the faucet hard the other way, so hot it burns, biting her lip to muffle the screams as she frigs herself into a frenzy imagining the sweet taste of Tara on her lips. The burn hurts worse later, hidden under a fuzzy robe as she sits within arm's reach of the witch, trying desperately to not rub her thighs together. Or leap on the other girl and make her beg. But in a good way -- _No! Bad! Bad naughty wrong full stop --_

"Are you okay?" 

Tara looks nothing but concerned. The vampire swallows, and indulges a final brief and brutal fantasy before reluctantly forcing it back down.

"Not really." It comes out more pathetic than she'd like. Which only makes Tara more sympathetic.

"Guess we should call it a night, huh?"

"Yeah." Pale and wan, Willow imagines herself, like a Victorian victim of consumption as she lays her head on the arm of the couch. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Tara hesitates, then before she can lose her nerve, kneels and kisses Willow on the cheek.

"Good night."

The burn hurts worse than before and Willow doesn't care, imagining the far more intense feeling where those lips touched her flesh. She falls asleep with one hand cradling her cheek, the other cupping between her thighs.  


* * *

  
"Where's Giles?"

"G-man? Probably holed up in that library. Really oughtta just move in."

"We should tell the others. And you need to get that looked at --"

"You're looking at it right now, aren't you?"

"What's this?"

"My room."

"Your --"

"He had a spare room, all right? I kept telling him no, he's not the boss of me, and he kept being all tweedy and English. Finally said screw it, sure. Gimme another place to crash and patch myself up. 'Cept now I got you."

"What are you --"

"Hold me."

"I don't --"

"Tighter. Don't let go --"

"Oh my God!"

"Whew. That's better."

"That was disgusting."

"So you can decapitate a demon with your bare hands, but you get squicked by a relocated shoulder?"

"It's not that simple."

"Aw, c'mon. You're not playing fair."

"What are you talking about?"

"You. With the pouty."

"I'm not --"

"Keep going. Makes you look even cuter."

"Hey. What are you doi--"

"You say that an awful lot."

"Oh --!"

"Thought you were supposed to be smart. What's it look like I'm doin'?"

"We shouldn't -- I mean..."

"C'mon, Will. Don't be a stranger. It's all good. 'Cause you are, right? All good? All repenty?"

"..."

"C'mere. Sit in Santa Slayer's lap...and tell her what you want for Christmas."

"I --"

"Hey -- what is it? Seriously, don't freak out on me --"

"I-I might go bumpy. I don't know if I can stop it --"

"You bite, I stake. Otherwise? We're good."

"Oh..."

"I know what I'm gettin' into." 

"I...don't."

"...huh?"

"I mean...I mean I never -- I mean yeah, as a vampire. A, a-an evil vampire. A lot. But...before --"

"Damn. So it's like...your first time?"

"Kind of. I know you don't --"

"Ssh. Don't worry. I'll be gentle..."

"..."

"Unless you want it rough."  


* * *

  
Truth be told, Faith had been planning on getting hers up front; exploiting all that delicious guilt to the fullest, making the geek do her bidding on her knees. She's still not selfless enough to get Willow off first, but it seems totally fair to sixty-nine. Her on top, natch. Everything goes very satisfactorily indeed, so much so that afterward she finds herself uncharacteristically moved.

"Hey, usually I'm all 'get some, get gone'. But you could -- y'know --"

Willow eyes her outstretched arm like it's a poisonous cobra, and when the vampire quickly grabs her scattered clothes and starts getting dressed, Faith actually feels more than a little bit hurt. Luckily, she's got more than enough bravado to cover up.

The way she hears it later, Tara's devastated when the truth comes out. Giles expresses awkward sympathy, and Oz coolly sums it up: "But Willow's not your girlfriend."

Tara's hurt doesn't keep her from acknowledging the fact.

"And she was never mine. But she is my friend. Once again." Oz takes her hands in his. "Thanks to you."  


* * *

  
"I'd still feel better if I went with you." Willow tries not to look in Tara's direction. Bad enough she can't stop herself from sounding just a little pathetic, no matter how hard she tries. "I just want you guys to be safe."

"I can handle the muscle." Faith shuts the weapons chest -- last year's virtual graduation present, courtesy of Giles. "And we already hashed this out. If that thing comes back, Glinda's got the advantage."

"As long as you're sure --"

"You just keep a lid on pint-size." Faith cocks a meaning-laden eyebrow. "And don't let her give you any shit."

"Just go already." Dawn is very obviously resisting the urge to stamp her foot. Faith rolls her eyes.

"Seriously, there better not be one sip of beer missing." The Slayer stows her stakes and zips up the leather. "Peace."

Dawn glares at the door as it slams shut and the lock turns. "I _so_ do not need a sitter."

"At least you get the cool one." Willow tries a brave smile, frowning at Dawn's lack of reaction. "I thought I was the cool one..."

"You are," Dawn sighs. "I just wish she'd quit treating me like a kid. It's not like I have no experience. If you guys hadn't shown up that time, I would totally have staked my first vamp."

"You're a brave and strong young woman," Willow agrees. "Who is still very much kid-like. Which is why you get the cool vampire babysitter."

"Cool vampire who's still mooning around over --"

"Hey!" Willow can feel that damned blush again. It only makes her think more on the subject of her desire, now off alone with the Slayer discussing gods only know what. "That is very much non-kidlike talk."

"So talk to me." Dawn pulls Willow down on the couch beside her. "You still think she can't move past you and Faith? Even though she knows it didn't mean anything?"

"I wouldn't put it that way." Willow flounders as she searches in vain for safe harbor. "She's not the boss of me. Or the owner of my -- um..."

"But you want her to be?"

Willow shakes her head despite the worsening embarrassment. Dawn plows ahead, blissfully oblivious and utterly devoid of tact.

"Or is it the cold dead thing? Because I was thinking, you could just soak in a hot tub for a while, and then you wouldn't feel -- you know --" 

"Probably wouldn't last long --" But Dawn's breaking out the big eyes, and Willow's apathy wavers. "Can't hurt to try though, right?"

"How about tea? You know, to warm up for kissing? Not me," Dawn finishes hastily. "As in, hot bath, drink some tea -- be all nice and toasty for Tara?"

Willow manages a hopeful smile. "If you're offering, I'm buying."

It's not quite embarrassing, at least for her, but it's definitely awkward when Willow zones out underwater and doesn't hear the knocking. She ends up startled from her meditation by a panicking Dawn pulling her back up and out of the water. Dawn does an abrupt about face as Willow stands, dripping, making no attempt to cover herself.

"OhmygodIcantbelieveIforgotyoudontneedtobreathe." Dawn's near hyperventilating from embarassment, and Willow giggles for the first time in some time.

"My bad." Her lips twitch as her appreciative gaze runs down the younger girl's back side.

"Take a picture." Dawn's bravado rings slightly hollow, a note of hesitation in her voice as she puts both hands on her hips. "It'll last longer."

"Dawnie's growin' up." The vampire sounds wistful rather than sad. "You're just the kind of scrumptious little morsel I would have loved." 

Dawn doesn't turn around, but Willow can hear the blush. "Don't let Faith hear you say that."

"'Cause she'd stake me before I could violate your innocence?" Willow can't help a tiny wobble in her voice at the memory of Faith's seduction; the persistent torment of Tara, floating in the clouds, forever out of reach.

"Are you kidding?" Dawn sounds like her face is wrinkling in disgust. "She'd probably lock us in the closet and say we weren't allowed out until you made a woman of me."

Now it's Willow's turn to be embarrassed. "No offense, but I like you better as a sister." She steps out of the tub and dons her robe, to conserve heat and spare Dawn's modesty.

"Come on. Let's see how long this holds out."

They make popcorn -- Dawn's with butter, hers with blood -- and watch the classic cartoon marathon until Dawn falls asleep on Willow's shoulder. Faith makes predictably lewd comments on her return, though slightly more tasteful than usual. Maybe lingering guilt over having taken advantage of her. Or maybe for Dawn's benefit: Faith actually realizing her sister isn't always comfortable being treated like a miniature grownup. That sometimes, what the girl wanted and needed was a mom.

 _I got a splinter once, playing with her stakes._ Dawn says this while they're lounged out on the couch, watching Daffy Duck furiously spraying flecks of rage-induced spittle. _I asked her to help me get it out._

 _Did she?_ Willow makes it sound like a rhetorical question.

_She said I'd know better next time._

_Are you okay?_ Willow sits up, looking concerned. _Is it still --_

Dawn looks away, a tiny quiver in her lip.

_I got it._  


* * *

  
Tara's gone. Except it's worse, because she's not. Glory found her, and hurt her, then Willow found Glory and hurt her back -- _Alesh Astereth_ , the earth trembled and a crimson trickle ran down that shocked and perfect face. But even a vengeful vampire is no match for a hellgod, and the brutal retaliation would have torn Willow limb from limb if Faith's intervention hadn't allowed them to barely escape with their lives. And that night she weeps like never before as she holds Tara's limp and unresisting body in her arms.

"I made her bleed for you. It wasn't enough." She doesn't look away, letting the tears fall freely. "But I made her bleed."

"You can't tell me anything." Tara cradles her own mangled hand and stares sightless at the wall. "I have a degree."

They ran, and ran, until it seemed they'd reached the end of the line. Things got so bad Oz and Giles nearly came to blows. Glory found them, and took Dawn.

And now Faith's in a virtual coma. Eyes wide open, nobody home.

Willow's never done anything like this. Not without Tara; not ever.

But at this point, what else is there?

She sits down by the bedside and crosses her legs, taking a breath just as unnecessary as every other one since she died. The cool of her hand is more apparent against Faith's fevered brow, and the Slayer's face flickers briefly.

_Let me in._

As expected, she can feel resistance.

_Don't you want to see how deep I go?_  


* * *

  
_Don't make a sound,_ Faith warns her, and shuts the closet door.

It's okay. Tony's not here, Mom's passed out, but she still obeys. Big sister knows best.

Except she has to pee. And what's taking so long?

She reaches out with trembling fingers. Cracks the slats the barest hint of an inch, not daring to draw breath.

Faith stands over Mom, lying on the floor. Does something with something in her hands.

Then kneels, and does something to Mom.

"But why?" Willow's distraught plea falls on deaf ears as the scene repeats itself. The vampire stands next to the unheeding Slayer, imploring to be heard. "Why both times?"

Before Dawn. After Dawn. Always the same.

"It was a mercy." Faith's down on one knee over the body, an empty needle in her trembling hand.

"You could have run," Willow insists. "You could have taken Dawn --"

"Lotta good that did."

Faith's quiet murmur stops Willow in her tracks, shocked out of righteousness.

"Dawn's not dead. But she will be." Willow shakes her head, passion rising in her voice. "If you don't wake up."

"I tried everything." The Slayer's voice is a broken whisper. "I can't fight Glory."

"You can. But even if you won't -- I'm going." The vampire turns and walks to the door without a backward glance, undoing the triple deadbolts one by one; opening the door and stepping over the threshold, she stops, not turning round.

"Are you doing this?"  


* * *

  
It gets better when Willow again lays hands on Glory, and restores Tara's mind.

It gets even better a moment later, when she and Tara finally kiss, for the first time.

And then it gets much, much worse.  


* * *

  
From Dawn's perspective it's a no-brainer; by blood ties alone, she should be the one to lead Team Resurrection. Willow, however, is still sensitive enough on the subject of magick and her difficulty in connecting to the energies she had been on the verge of mastering as a human. She blames it on her vampiric nature, and who is Dawn to argue theory? But hearing Willow insist she can handle the ritual is already painful before Tara won't have it, and when Willow pushes back Tara snaps that she _can't_ , not in any way that would get acceptable results, because she's already tainted. Willow stares at her looking hurt, and a subdued Tara has to explain that the classic _vino de madre_ is the only method that stands a snowball's chance of not going all monkey's paw -- and Dawn, the only one of them who qualifies as sufficiently innocent.

"Kill Bambi?"

Willow's about to try to reassure their youngest member, hoping it won't take long to convince her. But the look on Dawn's face stops the vampire before she can think where to start.

"Harden the fuck up." Dawn lifts her chin, eerily reminiscent of Faith. "I'll do it."

Since then, ever since they brought her back, Faith can't shake the feeling she's -- not as simple as _wrong_ , but something's definitely different. All that extra training last year, totally devoting herself to the Slayer cause, finally putting her trust in Giles after he'd spilled the beans on the whole Cruciamentum gig instead of sticking a needle in her back. All for nothing, when the big bad Ripper ended up wussing out on them. Not like anyone but Oz gave a shit about their wanna-be leader and father figure murdering some random guy in cold blood; not when it was more than some guy, but the vulnerable human vessel for Glorificus. With countless dimensions in the balance, who had time to feel bad about someone who wasn't her sister?

Well, okay. Sometimes Dawn acted sorry too. Some talk she'd had with Ben, or something like that. But Giles insisted he was no good for them anymore; that Faith had grown beyond him, that she no longer needed a Watcher. Faith looks at the photograph they took before he left town and yeah, she regrets not being there to see him off but the sting was never going to fade regardless. Even if every time she looks at Willow, she can feel herself burn to repeat that tasty mistake all over again.

Just to feel.  


* * *

  
Tucker briefly joins the group after his little brother falls victim to a vampire attack, but ends up moving out of Sunnydale with his mom. Parker is the next recruit to go, in a more messy fashion, when a pair of vamps catch him outside after sunset leaving a path of his guts strewn right up to the door he died only inches away from. The Scoobies know their adversaries are reacting to being on the losing end for a change, feeling pushed into a corner, and not a one of them considers slacking off for a single moment. Especially not when Giles returns, bearing the usual news from bad to worse.

"Drusilla was already quite insane when she was turned," Giles is saying as he serves the tea. "But when her paramour was killed --"

"Okay, first -- paramour. That's like, screwing, right?"

"More or less." The Watcher's pained expression at his Slayer's interruption is one of long standing and long suffering.

"And you said this guy was part of Angelus's crew." Faith helps herself to the last biscuit. "So what took him out?"

"As I was saying -- Drusilla had apparently placed a great deal of emotional investment in this, em, 'Spike' --" 

Faith nods. "You weren't, but go on."

"In fact by all accounts, she was the one who turned him, against her own sire's wishes. Angelus had little patience for rivals, and they clashed almost immediately."

Willow tucks up her feet and smoothes away the wrinkles in her dress as she settles into Tara's arms. Faith has noticed she tends to avoid discussions regarding 'Puppy'.

"Of course, the Council has had agents in the American intelligence community since the beginning. However, some things take longer to discover." Giles produces another tin of biscuits, making a point to hand it to Tara. "In the late sixties, it was discovered that the Roosevelt administration -- that would be Franklin, not Theodore -- had forcibly conscripted Angelus as a weapon of war."

Willow's mouth falls open. "You're kidding."

"He was sent to retrieve a captured German submarine, and actually succeeded. But..." And the glasses come off for a polish. "Nearly the entire crew were slaughtered, along with a contingent of American soldiers. Accounts are muddy, but what is undisputed is that before Angelus left the ship, he killed Spike. As a result, Drusilla went on a rampage throughout Europe that dwarfed their previous escapades, until a mob got hold of her. She barely escaped in a crippled state, and hadn't been seen or heard from --"

"Until now," Faith interjects.

Giles gives a weary nod. "Most likely drawn here by the active Hellmouth. Thankfully, it's unusual for vampires --" He manages not to look in Willow's direction. "But she has a reputation for using magic."

Even without looking, they can all sense Willow's sudden interest.  


  


* * *

  


  
"Ow! Easy --"

"Remember what I said would happen if you ever showed your face around here again?" Willow's tone is merely curious, without a trace of anger. "I know, that was when I didn't have a soul, but you have to ask yourself: Just how lucky do I feel right now?"

Amy swallows the first few responses that come to mind. "I've come with an offer."

Willow's eyebrow rises. "One."

"It's not me! On behalf of --"

Willow's face morphs and twists, fangs sprouting over her lower lip. "Two --"

"We can get your magic back!"

That stops the vampire dead, if you'll pardon the expression. Amy doesn't dare draw breath until she starts feeling dizzy.

"I'm a lot smarter than you. But keep it short. Keep it simple. And --" Willow emphasizes with a fresh squeeze. "Not one word about him."

Amy meets her gaze, not without fear. "I wouldn't dare."

Willow pretends to look at an imaginary watch. "Go."

"Rack."

Willow looks back when nothing more is forthcoming, a sneer spreading over her lips. "What about him? You're telling me that two-bit pencil pusher has what it takes to reconnect me with the primal forces of nature? Nice try."

"You're half the problem." Amy can't disguise her irritation. "You're blocking yourself. And you managed the Ritual of Restoration just fine."

"I had help," Willow replies automatically, then clamps her mouth shut. Amy knows better than to broach the subject of The Girlfriend. Almost as touchy a topic as Xander.

"Rack knows his stuff. And he's done his homework." She steels herself, remembering everything at stake. "All he needs is the Slayer's sister."

The vampire's eyes flare copper. "What?"

"Not her life!" _Breathe, breathe..._ "Or her blood, or anything she'll miss!"

Willow leans in, hovering fangs over her exposed throat. "Last chance."

"Just the key!" With every fiber of her being she resists the instinct to call upon her power; Willow might not be able to directly defend against it, but she'd sense it and react before Amy could get a spell out.

"He'll just take the key, I swear on my mother's trophies! Goddamnit, Rosenberg, we're trying to help you --"

She stutters to a halt, thinking the last name may have been overly familiar. But Willow just stands there, holding the witch in an iron grip with a look on her face like she's deciding what flavor milkshake to get. More than most people, Amy knows a wish is a foolish thing, and yet right now she wishes with all her heart for something she still felt she could honestly pray to. 

Her pulse kicks up another notch as lips brush her starboard artery.

"Here's what you're going to do."

The conversational tone sends a chill up her backside.

"You're gonna go back to your boyfriend, or dealer, or whatever the hell he is to you. And you're gonna tell him that if he ever so much as looks at Dawn, I will spread him from one end of town to the other in a very fine mist. And then I'll tell Faith everything you just said, and give you to her." She can feel Willow smile against her neck, like they've come to an equitable agreement. "And if you say one more word?"

Her bladder nearly gives way at the gentle nip of blunt teeth.

"I'll think of something worse."  


* * *

  
"Typical." Faith knocks back the scotch at her usual speed, which never fails to induce a wince from Giles. At least she doesn't do what she does every other time, which is to follow it with an immediate second. She flips the glass over and slaps it down with a clunk and a look of disgust. "First guy in town I even _think_ about doing, he's a fuckin' spy."

Willow manages a grin. "Hey, at least you found out before you slept with him." She quails under the resulting hard look, and Tara returns the glare, cradling the vampire under a protective arm.

Faith exhales loudly, rubbing the back of her neck. "So what are we gonna do? He's seen our whole operation."

"And we've seen a great deal of his," Giles points out. "I would guess that he and his fellows have more to hide."

"Is there a reason we don't trust him?" Dawn looks back and forth at the others as they turn to stare at her. "I mean -- just because he works for the Army, or whatever..."

"The Council's policy," Giles says, "has always been to maintain a strict wall of silence with regard to civil authority. Just as only the Slayer has the power to directly confront the forces of evil, the Watchers consider themselves the only ones qualified to understand them."

Dawn scrunches up her face. "Well, _that's_ a big load of Hong Kong Phooey." From the looks of the others gathered around the table, she's not alone in this opinion.

"Unfortunately, in this case we are dealing with an agency specifically dedicated to the supernatural. It would appear that Riley's branch of the service is the same one that conscripted Angelus in 1943." Giles shuffles through a stack of papers, peering over his glasses. "Our best information is, however, sadly out of date. Anything you could learn would be most helpful."

"Double double agent, huh?" Faith pours another scotch, sitting back and staring at the glass in her hand. "Welcome to the jungle." 

To his credit, Riley turns out to be more decent than Faith would have guessed. He's the one who tips her to the colonel's scheme, swaps the syringes when the doctor turns away; stands fast and vouches for her in the aftermath when the higher-ups are milling around demanding answers and someone to blame. In the end they cart the colonel off in handcuffs, Riley gets a promotion, and life goes on. They still haven't seen hide nor hair of Drusilla since the original rumors started months ago, and everything is going so well it has to be why Faith feels so much like something has to be wrong. She finds Dawn in bed with Oz's little cousin Jordy, on the verge of surrendering that troublesome virginity, and it's almost a relief in comparison.

Something has to give.  


* * *

  
"If you can't smell 'em, just say so."

"I can. I could," Willow amends. Faith's been extra prickly all night. Make that all last few months, but tonight especially; the reptile clan they're tailing aren't enough of a threat to justify this dark a mood. Plus it's starting to rain, and all Willow wants is to get back home and crawl into her sweetie's arms, away from the world.

"I could call Tara. Try a locator spell --"

An annoyed exhalation cuts her off. Willow can feel her own emotions growing prickly in return, combining with the natural aggression of their respective demons toward each other. May be time to work on that diplomacy.

"I know you're not exactly comfortable around Tara," she begins. "And I know it's kind of my fault, but --"

Except the way Faith is shaking her head, it's plain to see this attempt has already failed. Willow cranes her neck and looks around, scanning for enemies as an excuse to spare Faith her scrutiny.

"We know they can't be south of us." She strives for reassuring without being patronizing. "Do you want to split up, or double back?"

Faith doesn't respond. She looks over to see the Slayer in the middle of the street, her head thrown back, eyes shut.

"Are you okay?" Willow hesitantly approaches the other woman, unsure why she's stopping at a prudent distance. Faith's mouth is slightly open to the tiny drops of rain coming down, her face shining with moisture in the glow of the streetlight.

"Faith, you can talk to me." That was good, she thinks. Soothing, not pleading. "I know we've had our problems --"

The laugh is a sharp and bitter bark.

"Problems?" The Slayer shakes her head, swaying back and forth, her fingers clenching at her sides. "You want to know about my problems?"

"I just --"

"You don't give a fuck about my problems." Faith pronounces it like a death sentence. "You can't feel anything..."

Willow's about to say that's not nice, or fair. Except Faith is staring at her through the gentle mist; running her gaze down the vampire's body with a frank assessment that makes Willow want to pull her jacket closed over her dampening shirt. Faith moves like a stalking panther and the look in her eyes leaves Willow rooted to the spot, transfixed like so many of her victims.

"You want to feel something?"

She snaps from paralysis and steps back, shaking her head. Not like it's doing any good.

"Faith --" She tries for stern, cursing her own helplessness, the telltale tremor in her voice. Thoughts cascade through her mind in a jumble, freezing the words on her tongue.

"What? You're the bad-ass vampire. Do something." Faith's right up in her face, backing her into the iron graveyard gate. She grabs Willow by the wrist and forces the vampire's hand open, placing it right over her own heart and there's no more passion in her eyes. " _Feel_ something."

Only death.

"Stop it!" Willow tries to pull away, but the Slayer's grip is stronger than she remembers, or she the weaker. Faith leans in, practically nose to nose, baring her teeth.

"Make me."

Stars explode behind Willow's eyes. Through the haze she can feel herself being lifted from her feet, hurled through the air until impacting with what feels suspiciously like a tree. Back to earth, safe and sound. Thank you mother, I know my alarm went off. I'll just lay here; just a moment longer...

The thud of boots transmitted through the earth barely registers before she's being hauled up and pinned to the tree. Faith holds her there, one hand around her throat, the other gripping the gussett of her jeans in a perverse parody of pleasure.

"Make me stop." The Slayer's hands are trembling with unspeakable emotion, or the effort of physically restraining herself. "Make me feel..."

Willow stares into inchoate rage and despair, powerless to give voice to her own horror. And something in Faith crumbles; those gripping hands losing their strength, slipping and falling away as the Slayer abruptly turns and stumbles off before breaking into a desperate run, fleeing the graveyard as though hell itself were at her heels.

Willow continues to stare after Faith, holding her throat.  


* * *

  
Faith awakens to a pounding head and an empty bottle, the sour taste of vomit dwarfed by the enormity of her latest and greatest fuckup. She doesn't dare show her face all day, skulking through back alleys and abandoned buildings before finally back to the Watcher's house before sundown, entering through the upstairs window. She manages a quick shower, but has to stop before she scrubs herself raw.

Some things don't wash off.

She's ready to face the music when the gang arrives. Except to her complete shock and utter dismay, Willow apparently hasn't said a word. Somehow Faith fumbles her way through, shrugs off her bumps and bruises, nodding along with the minimal cock and bull story Willow concocts to fill in the gaps. Each fresh concern and condolence is a knife in her gut as she goes through the motions, burning inside at the sound of their lies.

She slips out after midnight and takes to the streets, leaving the rest to celebrate a rare night in their own beds. Wandering around town like it's her first night here, it comes as no surprise when her feet end up taking her the same place they did then. Her flag is still flying over City Hall, which is actually a surprise until she remembers the protection Willow and Tara cast over it for their first joint glamour.

The building is cold as she enters, on the alert for intruders. One downside of using this place for a base had been her inability to declare it a private residence by whatever cockamamie vampire logic these guys followed. She'd welcomed the challenge, daring all comers to bring it on. But the place is deserted, the musty smell of damp paper thick in the air as she roams the halls, working her way up to the top floor and then down again, room by room.

The lower levels are oddly well-maintained and free of dust. Faith frowns as she continues into the sub-sub-basement. She doesn't know what she's looking for, but she'll know it when she finds it.

"Well, hello there."

Faith blinks and squints. From out of the shadows appears a bland but friendly-looking fellow sporting a receding hairline, business slacks and open collar, stirring the contents of a mug that reads WORLD'S GREATEST MAYOR.

"Want some hot cocoa? None of that instant stuff."

Against every instinct and better judgment, she accepts.  


* * *

  
It probably helps that she's expecting it to be creepy when he smiles and it's nothing like, not by a long shot. Wilkins is unflappably cheerful, unfailingly optimistic despite his dismal surroundings, and Faith warms to him despite herself. Especially when he's totally open and frank about his hopes and dreams that went up in smoke when the Master came to power. But his aspirations were only put on hold, and civic government could play a role again -- he's only been set back a decade at most. After preparing for so long, that's a drop in the bucket. And there's a comfortable spot at his side for a smart, strong young woman willing to break a few eggs...

She sneaks back into Giles's house before sunup. Falls asleep listening to Will and Tara in the next room, all quiet whispers and sighs.  


* * *

  
She thinks the jig is up when Tara catches her alone the next morning. Should have guessed the witch is only concerned for her welfare, as per fucking usual. Bad enough it were just on Willow's behalf. With everything she can't say looming so large on her mind, Faith asks Tara the only safe question left. It takes all day to do the research, and that night when she hears the answer, sees the hope and reassurance on Tara's face, Faith can feel herself on the brink of coming undone.

"I'm not --" The words stumble across her lips. "Not wrong?"

Tara shakes her head. But the glad tidings are turning, her growing confusion writ large at the Slayer's implacable misery.

"Then why --" Faith turns away, unable to meet the other woman's eyes as the tears force past her crumbling resolve. Her voice is a cracked and broken whisper. "Why am I doing these things?"

Then Tara's holding her. Which of course makes it better.

And so much worse.  


* * *

  
Tara's awareness of how much Willow wants to bite her is something the witch finds easier to understand on a purely abstract level. The first night they'd made love had been mutually cautious to a fault, until her impatience overcame her partner's reluctance. Willow had sworn then and there _I will never hurt you_ , and that was good enough for her. The first time she allowed the vampire to go down on her during her cycle had been simultaneously terrifying and a glorious revelation, the second better still. By the third repetition, they were both relaxed enough to fully surrender to ecstasy despite Willow's inability to avoid slipping into game face. Tara had never once felt threatened since then, never doubted her lover for a moment.

Apparently, there's a first time for everything.  


* * *

  
Faith ends up siding with them. Just barely -- and nearly too late to save Oz, badly injured in the Mayor's attempt to use him as a bargaining chip. But they didn't count on the enormous torch Willow still carries, in a mostly platonic way, and the witch turned vampire nearly reduces City Hall to a smoldering crater before calming down sufficiently to allow Giles to negotiate. Wilkins brings Oz out himself, without a trace of fear, and he looks so incredibly disappointed when he realizes Faith isn't choosing him.

It's almost enough to change her mind.  


* * *

  
"You brought her _here_?"

"Where else am I supposed to stash a neutered vampire?" A hiss of pain escapes as Faith peels off her shirt. "Goddamn prickers. Be pullin' these out for weeks."

"And just where am I supposed to shower?" Giles looks even more aghast. "To brush my teeth? To --"

"She's not gonna be there forever. I'll talk to Riley." The Slayer grabs a fresh shirt from the pile. "Gotta jet."

The door slams shut. Giles cradles his forehead.

" _Ripper..._ " The lilting sing-song from behind the bathroom door tugs at his loins.

"Sod off," he mutters.

" _Be in me._ "

His pulse throbs from his brain to his cock.

" _Be in me..._ "

With a muffled groan, Giles limps away to put the kettle on.  


* * *

  
A chipped Drusilla is, of course, only slightly less hazardous than the regular kind. Giles finds it necessary to keep her blindfolded, which puts an end to the thrall attempts at feeding time but does nothing to quell the creepy remarks. 

"Daddy's dust." Drusilla pouts, coquettish even blind and bound up in chains. "Should have let me bring him back. Then Puppy'd make us all bark."

Tara tries not to wince at the playful growl as she retrieves the bloodstained mug. "More of a cat person."

Drusilla tips her head with an unseeing smile. "If you kiss me, will it make the sun go down?"

"Maybe." Tara's about out of patience. "Will it make you shut up for two minutes?"

"Nasty kitten." The vampire turns away, nose in the air. Tara tries to make her escape, but it's never over that easy.

"You're her everything." Drusilla's words echo in her ears, burning in her mind. "Without you...she's nothing, isn't she?"

Tara breathes a sigh of relief when she's out of the bathroom. Whether together or separately, their captive's current favorite amusement appears to be messing with her captors. Willow fusses, which only makes Tara more fidgety, and the ensuing awkward silence drives her into the kitchen to make tea. She's just coming out when Faith returns, looking like the bearer of bad news.

"No go." The Slayer sinks into the couch with a weary sigh. "Riley says they're full up."

"No room at the inn, huh?" Willow frowns. "Don't suppose they've got anyone there who can open a portal?"

Faith's face is unreadable. "Trying to get me killed again?"

Willow sounds hurt and cruel at the same time. "You killed yourself." 

"Willow!" Tara can't help the shock and outrage. It sounded nastier than the vampire probably intended, but that's no excuse.

"I'm just saying." The vampire crosses her arms, sounding equally defensive and looking more guilty than sorry. Par for the course these days, at least where Faith is concerned.

"They're the ones who made her like this," Willow continues, adamant. "They should be taking responsibility for it."

"Not his fault their first guinea pig broke out of the lab." Faith unlaces her boots and sets them aside to rest her obviously aching feet on the table. Giles can't cure her of the habit, but at least she's no longer leaving scuffmarks.

Willow wrinkles her nose, at the Slayer's unwashed socks or attitude. "Well, their little experiment? Causes way more problems than it solves."

"Yeah?" Faith hauls herself up from the couch with a grimace. "And what's your solution, Miss Fang? Gonna shove a soul in Lady Fish-and-Chips too?"

"I could!" Willow's back to sounding defensive, following Faith into the kitchen. "It's not fair to her, what they did. It's cruel and it's wrong!"

"Are you listening to this?" Faith emerges from the kitchen with a beer, rolling her eyes and cocking a thumb over her shoulder. "You were a basket case for weeks, and you weren't one to start. And you were only evil for two years. Now you're talking two hundred?"

"Not nice." Dru's voice echoes behind the door. "Only a hundred and sixty-two."  


* * *

  
"I already know what they think." Oz gazes at her with his normal infuriating lack of emotion. They're sitting out in Giles's courtyard, watching fireflies congregate around the pool. "What about you?"

Faith exhales in disgust, shaking her head. "I think I already made myself pretty clear."

Oz's eyebrows knit together briefly before smoothing out again. "I know you have trouble talking about stuff."

She holds back the snort. "Says mister no comment."

As is his wont, Oz changes tack.

"You can't help all this tension with Willow." He gives the tiniest of shrugs. "You've got history."

A surge of anger opens her mouth. She ends up shutting it seconds later, her whirling thoughts unspoken.

"I hadn't ever met her before she was turned. I saw her once. In her Halloween costume." Oz actually smiles at the memory, bigger than Faith's ever seen, before resuming serious mode. "But I never even got to kiss her."

She's staring at his lips. All soft behind the mustache and goatee, as she tries to puzzle out his meaning. 

Next thing she knows she's in his lap. Never been with a guy so much smaller than her, this wiry and compact. Molding herself to his body, one hand running down his side as the other scratches the fine hairs at the back of his neck...

"No."

He's so polite yet firm it takes her a moment to process.

"I'm not really into being used." And he's pushing her away; not rough but absolutely insistent, just enough sympathy that it doesn't inspire homicidal feelings. "Especially not as a way for you to try to forget who you really want."

"The fuck?" She slides off his lap with a shake of her head, all denial and bluster. "Been there. Boned the vamp, got the T-shirt --"

She grinds to a halt at his silent stare. Not Willow. Then --

"Aw, _hell_ no."

Oz actually chuckles before turning the serious up to eleven.

"Willow doesn't just rely on Tara." He leans forward, as if confiding a fresh tragedy. "She uses her as a crutch. It's emotional dependence, and she calls it love."

Faith remains silent. Oz continues, inexorable.

"It's why she always falls back on magic. Why she cast the Tabula Rasa spell, and if Tara wasn't so forgiving? She'd have left her right then."

"Glinda's a big girl." The growl in Faith's voice is unavoidable at that particular memory. "She can take care of herself."

"She shouldn't have to. Not when it means putting up with that." 

"When did you decide to go all Chatty Kathy?" Faith throws back her head, staring at the ceiling. "And how did this go from souling vamps to my sex life?"

"Willow abuses her. And what's worse? She puts her on a pedestal."

Who knows, Faith thinks. Maybe she should have stayed in Philly.

"She holds up Tara as this paragon of virtue," Oz insists. "A sinner like her could never hope to even emulate someone like that. Let alone be their equal."

Faith looks at him, surprised. "Big words for a musician."

Oz shrugs. "I read a lot."  


* * *

  
Finding an acceptable substitute for an Orb of Thessulah becomes much easier when Willow figures out exactly what elements of it are necessary, and why. Once that hurdle is cleared it's less than twenty-four hours before they're firing up the censers, Tara taking point with Dawn as Willow leads them in the newly revised ritual. Drusilla's already babbling and moaning about faeries, floods and fire and as lightning flares behind her eyes and her mouth opens in that silent scream, Faith almost feels sorry for her. At least Riley's surgical team is waiting in the wings, ready to remove their own little tidbit of torment.

"Green witch!" Chains rattle as Drusilla sobs and spits and claws at the air, contorting nearly in two. "Get it out, get it out GET IT OUT --"

Dawn swallows and stands her ground as Drusilla collapses like a bundle of sodden sticks. Tara keeps a firm grip on the thurible and as she watches Willow run to Dru's side, take the weeping vampire in her arms, she can feel the presence of the Slayer standing behind her, a warm and solid rock for her to lean on. Her eyes finds Giles, and his eyebrows rise as he takes in the new arrangement.

Later, when they're alone, she can't help but ask.

"How do we know this is going to be better?"

Somehow, he smiles.

"Because it has to be."  


* * *

  
Pungenday, 21 The Aftermath, 3183


End file.
